I Won't Catch You If You Fall, Darling
by umemotionalfox
Summary: Jean doesn't think he ever gave much credit to hands.


I Won't Catch You If You Fall, Darling

Summary: Jean doesn't think he ever gave much credit to hands.

Disclaimer: I like Marco. So if I owned SNK he wouldn't have fucking died.

Dedication: To my wonderfully harsh and cruel Mello. You better fall in love with this shit.

Hands were the end part of a person's arm past the wrist; this includes the palm, fingers, and thumb. A baby's hands are usually soft to the touch. Smooth and flawless and wonderful and so completely breakable you wonder _how on_ _earth_ this little bundle of innocence will survive in the heartless world they live in. This changes over time as they start to grow older and endure the giant bitchslap that is life. Those cute and delicate hands undergo harsh environments; gaining blisters and cuts along the way. They eventually adjust to this as they begin to harden with callouses and develop scars. More time passes and just when they thought they've got the hang of things, those recently strong and cable hands suddenly become weak and brittle; buried six feet under.

And so what if Jean was thinking these completely _depressing _thoughts while holding Marco's hand? It wasn't like he was unhappy or anything. On the contrary, Jean was pretty damn content with his life fighting the ugly assed bastards and maintaining his relationship with longtime boyfriend- Marco Bott. Sure there were the occasional disturbances (namely a brat called Eren Jaeger) but for living in a Titan ruling world Jean thought he may have won the lottery.

A slight squeeze of the hand from Marco had Jean snapping back to reality. "What are you doing?" the friendly giant said, lying back down on the fluffy mattress that occupied Jean's bedroom. Jean blew out a breath of air and joined his boyfriend on the bed. "Hmm…nothing important. Just thinking". Marco glazed down at their intertwined hands before asking 'about what?'. Jean followed Marco's line of eyesight and brought both of their hands up to his lips. "About you". Marco rolled his warm brown eyes as a light blush decorated his freckled cheeks. "I'm right here". "I know", the two-toned man softly replied, griping his boyfriend's hand a little tighter.

Yeah, hands went through a hell of a lot in a lifetime. Looking down, Jean notices the blisters and bruises that seemed to be taking permanent residence on his once smooth hands. He was beginning to form callouses from all the training he had to withstand. Taking a glance at Marco's own hand in his, he noticed the same treatment. Jean frowned at this; he obviously did not like the fact that Marco had to endure the same training as him.

"You did it again", a soft voice spoke, turning Jean's attention back onto the cute brunette beside him. "What?" Jean lazily replied. Marco sighed, nuzzling his head into Jean's chest. "You keep on looking off into space or something. Are you tired? We can sleep if you want; trainings over for the day" liking the sound of dozing off next to an adorable Marco, Jean pulled said boy closer, wrapping his arms around him. After a second thought, Jean brought one of Marco's hands out from around his back and once again intertwined it with his.

Jean doesn't think he ever gave much credit to hands. The simple extension at the end of his arms gave him the ability to fight the bastards known as Titans. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he would have been long dead without them, probably torn apart by some ugly ass faced man eater. Not that his ass hadn't been saved multiple times by one of his fellow team mates or superior. Just because he had hands didn't mean he had the mentality to kill a Titan. He was a coward after all. If he couldn't save himself how was he supposed to save others?

Not liking where his train of thought was heading, Jean decided to focus his attention on the boy currently sleeping in his arms. Rubbing his thumb over both of their hands, Jean thought about his future. It was a topic he rarely visited; he was too afraid to think about it sometimes. But, rarity does happen. Closing his eyes and eventually falling asleep, Jean dreamt. Maybe one day when this whole mess is over and done with they could go on a proper date, one filled with smiles and laughter and light kisses on freckled cheeks. Maybe they would take a super long vacation and travel to places they've been before; Jean heard of some amazing tales about things like oceans and deserts from Armin. Maybe after all that roaming they could settle down somewhere, buy a small house with a garden because Marco loved the smell of flowers. And maybe one day when both boys turned men are old and brittle he can hold that now withered hand in his and think about what a nice life he has. It was highly impossible, but that's what daydreams are now aren't they?

AN: Finally finished! Hope it was satisfactory. Maybe a bit OOC but I can't write Jean well…


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